I so much enjoyed Eunice Brock's column on cemeteries (CHN July 5). As a young child in 1950s Danville, Ind., I kept my visit to the cemetery a secret from my parents and childhood friends. Eventually my mother knew; however, I'm not sure that she ever understood why I loved to just go there and walk and read headstones. Don't tell anybody, but one time I took a flower from a grave that had too many and placed it by a headstone that had none.

To this day, that cemetery provides as Eunice said a "point of reference" for 5-year old Chris Pecar who died of leukemia at age 5, for 1-year old Bill Harvey who died of an accidental crib death, for Elemer Koch, Md., who stitched my head and charged $5 for a house call, and for Helen Pecar, a dear friend of my parents and me. For my mother, the point of reference is a beautiful piece of land with oak trees partially surrounded by a corn field in Bethlehem, Pa.

Later, while I was working for Carolina Power and Light, a good road trip en route to another power plant was stopping at a church cemetery with a diet drink and peanut butter crackers.

Anyway, thanks again. I can now come out of the closet.

Hank Lewis

Chapel Hill